for those about to rock we salute you

In my life, all things – it seems – return to music. Waiting at the Innsbruck station for our 13.26 to Venice, I met a gentleman from Murona known, in circles, as DJ Tuzlo. He works the Murona club scene with five other dj’s, mixing hip-hop with classic American songs and Italian ballads, keeping the beat alive. He would like to visit New York City someday. He told me how most people in Italy have stereotyped club disc jockeys as drug abusing ingrates who listen to obnoxious music and stay out too late – and that his mother was not too supportive of his life aspiration. But he pursued his dreams anyway, and assured me that he does no drugs – just beer. And he’s been mixing and scratching since he was this tall (the level of his knees), and has always loved his music.

He was a nice guy, and he left me with two pieces of advice: one – never go to the Balkans; and two – get married in Venice.

I sit here now on the train, listening to my punk rock, my indie darlings, my blues, my mixes and remixes. And I sit across from a nun whom I am convinced is clairvoyant, for when I feel myself identifying with the darker lyrics – or when I intentionally think of something inappropriate – she closes her eyes and looks away. And I am happy to have met someone who lives music as I do – someone who tries to defy stereotype and counter convention as I can only subtly, and gracefully, hope to.

And looking out, and seeing the hillside layered and fortified with vineyards and the mountains smoking as if fresh baked, and feeling my heart beat ever faster – I know I am in Italy.

I wish you the best of luck, DJ Tuzlo – I’ll keep an ear out for you stateside.